Friday, September 17, 2021

On The Artist's Doorstep #4: Dancing With Daddy

 Each painting starts with an idea, an inspiration. Whether from a trip, an experience, or even emotions, each painting begins in the artist's heart. We pour something of ourselves into what we create.

I'm going to be sharing what's behind some of my paintings. Today, let's look at "Dancing With Daddy". I'm getting really honest about my feelings so be warned.

"Dancing With Daddy" 12x12" palette knife, oil on canvas

"Dressed in her many layered tutu, she runs to her daddy and pleads, "Dance with me!" Her father smiles and places her feet on his and holding her securely, they start to dance around the room. Her squeals and giggles fill the air as they twirl and dance to the music. He laughs with her, heart swelling with love for his little girl."

What's more precious than a father and daughter's relationship? This painting was born out of a longing for the relationship I never had with my dad. I was one of four daughters, too quiet and shy for my father's outgoing personality. I never felt close to him. There were moments of tenderness, but mostly I felt overlooked or like a disappointment. 

I continued to struggle with trying to win his approval for the rest of his life. It definitely left a scar on my heart. Oh he loved me, but to my sensitive soul it felt mostly like I didn't measure up. 

Fast forward to my early 50's. I'm trying to resolve this in my heart. I'd transferred those feelings onto my Heavenly Father. I wondered how He could love me unconditionally when I knew my mistakes and failures. Thus began a year long  study on the Father's love. This painting was born from that. 

He spoke to my heart, "Be like a little girl again. Full of trust, unspoiled by the pain of the world, and come dance with Me."

Slowly, tentatively, I step onto His feet. He holds me securely against my fears and insecurities and we start to dance. I learn to let go of my fears and start trusting Him to lead me. Storms still come and rage, I stumble and fall, but He picks me up and places me back on His feet. And we dance. I finally feel my Father's love pouring into my heart. And when I falter, I just look at my painting and remember I am loved beyond measure.



  1. That is such a poignant picutre-especially when tied into your own story. Your relations with your dad was like the one I had with my own mother. Bittersweet and sometimes haunting. xo Diana

  2. Oh Cecilia what a beautiful painting that you have to cherish and remind yourself of how you could mend your heart. Beautiful my sweet friend. xoxo Kris


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